On pardonne tant que l'on aime
by Alexandrie
Summary: “Ours was the most tragic tale of unrequited and forbidden love.” A near death experience and a bottle of whiskey influence Gemma’s private thoughts regarding a certain Indian. However she isn’t alone, Kartik’s always nearby. On Hiatus. Please See Profile
1. Miss Doyle

**Disclaimer- I am not Libba Bray. I did write A Great and Terrible Beauty. If I did, I would be rather sad for writing fan fiction for my own story. Who does that? **

I awoke to Kartik's chapped lips pressed against mine. My eyes still closed, I felt his cool mouth find my lips again and again. Rhythmically he blew gusts of air into my empty lungs. It was as if we had one mouth between us, his breath becoming my own. In my still drowsy state, I believed this was a dream. A wonderful, hungry dream similar to the others I had delighted in ever since I first tasted Kartik in the woods. I greedily inhaled his scent of cinnamon and firewood. I heard him whispering my name with desperate urgency between each kiss. _Gemma_. I smiled, and threw my arms around his neck to pull him closer. I wanted more of him, aware in my subconscious that dreams are fleeting.

I opened my eyes to see his glorious face and the thick eyelashes that framed the loveliest of eyes. My smile faded as I looked into those eyes, and saw they were wild with fear. Not a dream, but perhaps a nightmare, for I had been suffering from many of those as well. I began to feel the deep ache that encompassed my body. This was not like my other delicious dreams; there was never pain, only bliss. The sudden realization that this may not be a dream caused my arms to slide from his neck and fall to my sides with a soft thump. Relief washed over Kartik's face to see my eyes open. I closed them again, suddenly very sleepy and potentially embarrassed by my plain desire if it was, in truth, not a dream.

With my eyes closed and air in my lungs, I was abruptly aware of my environment. The ground was muddy from all the rain that had drenched Spence's sweeping green lawns, making lawn tennis and croquet an impossibility. It was night, the darkness pushed against my eyelids. _How late was it?_ I wondered. I remembered Ann, Felicity and I sneaking to the caves after dinner what seemed to be only a few hours ago. Then a more urgent though crossed my mind. _Why was I so cold?_ I was soaking wet; wearing only my thin, white, chemise which was clinging to my body. I hurt all over, and I felt too tired to move. My thoughts were slow and waterlogged, but I could still feel the whiskey pulsing though my blood. A single word came to my groggy mind, Kartik.

My eyes flew open again to see Kartik on top of me. In fact he was straddling my body, his knees on either side of my abdomen. His hands were placed by my head, his face mere inches from my own. He was leaning over me in order to breathe life into my lungs. His perfect smile looked pleased, but it quickly faded as he recognized my compromised position beneath him. He got off me, and with absurd grace he walked a few paces away to watch me. He was always watching me. I looked to see my nightgown and corset lying strewn near the shore of the lake where I had left them. I tried to scramble over to them as fast as I could, to alleviate my humiliation. _Why did Kartik always have to see me when I was at my most vulnerable? Why couldn't't I be on top of him as he lay in _his_ undergarments? Wow, Gem, guess you drank a little more whiskey than you thought. _

But as soon as I sat up with an attempt to regain my dignity, nausea swept over me. Dizzily, I vomited up a small amount of water, and slowly slid down onto my back. The memories of the night leading up to my near drowning were starting to surface. I saw the three of us, Ann, Felicity, and me, laughing in the cave, crying about Pippa, and the whiskey bottle being pulled from behind a rock. There was one sip, two sips, too many to count. I remember leaving the cave, lying to my friends, and climbing into the boat alone. Then I saw Pippa's lovely face in the water, and wanting to touch her beautiful, porcelain skin once more. Finally, there was the icy water, and then nothing until Kartik's lips.

Now that he saw I was OK, Kartik's face turned angry. Perhaps a more actuate description was irate. He opened his mouth, but seemed to be too furious to speak. I knew he would berate me for my stupidly, who was foolish enough to go out alone on a boat at midnight? I lay still, waiting for his tirade. Strangled, half formed words burst from him.

"Bloody drunk-"

"Could have been killed-"

"Most idiotic-"

"Think how _I_ would have felt if-"

He stopped then, a small red blush creeping up neck and into his cheeks. For a moment, I wished to be that blush. To be able to caress his chestnut skin, bring color and life to his haggard exterior. To make him feel the intense heat I felt whenever I was around him. I ceased my increasingly scandalous daydream, when I saw a look of concern breaking Kartik's furious façade. I wondered what my expression had betrayed. _Could he see my obvious lust for him?_

Kartik began again, slower, more controlled, "Are you quite alright Miss Doyle?"

* * *

**Author's note:**

**This is my first fan fiction, and I am aware that it is incredibly short. In fact, I believe this author's note is longer than the story itself. I truly desire to let it grow into a longer entry, but my attention span is notoriously short. I am planning on adding more (and soon), though it is really just a one-shot scene. I would appreciate any reviews of the critical or admiring kind. But you do not have to review, I always prefer that authors don't beg for reviews, they should be something willingly given by a reader. It is enough to me that you took time to read my interpretations (fantasies?) of Kartik and Gemma's steamy love. Also, there is nothing more irritating than spelling or grammatical errors, except perhaps someone who is extremely out of character, so please do not hesitate to inform me of such. Thank you so much for reading. **


	2. Rejection

**Author's note: New title and summary, because I felt the old ones were no longer appropriate for the general tone of the story. Thank you to those who reviewed the previous chapter, which has been updated slightly as well.**

The whiskey pushed a bubble of hysterical laughter to my lips. But it lacked any true amusement. My brother had asked me if I was "all right" before. It was less than a year ago, but truly it felt like lifetimes. I remembered Tom inquiring about my purity with the uncomfortable reluctance that accompanies the need to speak aloud on such an improper topic. He suspected that the very man, who moments ago lay on top of me while I was wearing only my undergarments, had taken my virtue on the day of Mother's death. The irony was laced with too much pain to be comical.

I saw a difference between Kartik and my brother though. Kartik, I believed, was genuinely concerned for my welfare. He did not appear to be interested merely in the nature of our family's reputation. Ensuring that our status was pristine would be Tom's only motivation behind the question. _Maybe Kartik cared more for me than my own family._ Though my family loved me, I knew they still used me as a pawn in the complex game society requires us to play. _Would Kartik ever use me, even if he cared for me?_ The answer was immediately apparent. Yes, he had already tried to exchange my life for a place among the higher ranks of the Rakshana. My heart squeezed and the bubble burst, now escorted by tears.

"Oh yes," I barked with a laugh, my eyes wet. "I am quite all right. I nearly drowned that's all." My next laugh sounded like a sob to my ears. I hoped Kartik wouldn't hear it.

"Oh," was the only reply Kartik managed. He looked more concerned that ever, his anger gradually fading into fear. He obviously thought I was insane. He hesitated for a second, and then stood up. I watched him stand, and noticed for the first time that he was as wet as I was. And bare-chested. I looked for his black cloak and colorful gypsy shirt, and discovered them lying not far from my own discarded clothing. Kartik must have taken them off before diving into the lake. I instantly regretted my words towards Kartik. He had just saved my life hadn't he? I couldn't picture Tom jumping in a lake to save me. Or Simon. Perhaps Simon, if there was someone around to watch his heroic antics.

"I'm sorry" I muttered. What kind of girl was I not to be polite when I was rescued from death's clutches? However, it was terribly difficult to be well-mannered while staring up at a half-naked gypsy. Especially when you truly desired to be kissing, rather than talking.

This appeared to surprise Kartik. "Excuse me?"

"I said I was sorry. For falling into the lake and being ill-tempered towards you, when you had just saved my life. Thank you for that." I was babbling.

"Oh" was the reply again. "That is quite all right Miss Doyle. Just as long as you are safe."

I didn't understand his rigid formality. He sat down again upon the tree trunk; his back was rod straight. His muscles were tense, as if he expected to be sprung upon at any moment. I saw the way his eyes kept flickering to me and then away, as though he couldn't stand to look at me for any length of time. _Why?_

"Well," I answered with equal stiffness, "I am safe." I held back from saying anything more because I was too distracted by Kartik's marbled chest. Suddenly, his beauty, more than my near nakedness, made me feel self-conscious. He could not perceive me with anything but irritation. I did not look as lovely as Pippa; I had neither the confidence nor the ability to charm men in the way Felicity did. I was not even as talented or obedient as Ann. I only assumed I had imagined the way Kartik gazed into my eyes as we danced in the stables.

"I am glad you are safe." His response confirmed his indifference towards anything more than civility.

At that instant, I could have died from the politeness of it all. We might as well have been discussing the Queen's health. I wanted Kartik. I wanted him in a way he never did and never would want me. And yet, if he did desire me, our passion for one another would never be accepted. Ours was the most tragic tale of unrequited and forbidden love.

Though my muscles were still sore, the dizziness was beginning to fade. I wanted to sit up, but knew Kartik would slip into the night as soon as I could make it back to school on my own. I didn't want to see him leave so quickly, I had barely said anything that made sense to him tonight. With the shock of discovering Kartik's body on top of own, not to mention the rather large quantity of alcohol I had consumed, I had forgotten how long it had been since I last saw Kartik.

It had been nearly four months ago, when I asked him for his allegiance to the Order. Ever since then, I had anticipated his return. When the gypsies had arrived weeks ago, a certain gypsy had not been among their number. As I lay curled into a tight ball during the darkest hours of the night, I feared that he would never come back. What if he boarded a ship to India or America in order to escape the Rakshana? Or worse, what if the Rakshana had finally caught him? That thought had been too painful to even contemplate. So I had just spent those dark nights imagining us meeting again. I would prove to him I was capable of being a High Priestess, no longer the childish schoolgirl he knew.

I dreamed of being a recent debutant, a woman in charge of her life. I'd be wearing a smart suit and hat, my curls held in place in a clean bun. The perfect outfit to reform the Order and bring peace and stability to the Realms. My family, whole again and happy, would be tearful at my departure, but accepting nonetheless. I'd be on the threshold of adventure, and Kartik would be in awe.

I hardly imagined him finding me drowning in a lake, in naught but my underclothes. And drunk at that. I hadn't even been to the Realms or made progress with the Order since we last met. My face burned hot with a mixture of embarrassment and failure.

It had been a long time since I had spoken, and I observed Kartik getting restless. He had given up on looking at me, and was now staring over the lake with a pensive look in his eye. I would sell my nicest pair of stockings just to know what he was thinking. How I dearly wished he would think about me.

It was silly I know, but I racked my brain for ways to make him stay a bit longer. The whiskey kept suggesting ideas such as kissing Kartik or removing the rest of my clothing would be effective deterrents. The fear of rejection, lead by the small, rational part of my brain, kept me pinned to the sodden grass.

* * *

**Author's note:**

**I am terribly sorry my dear readers. A whole month and no update?!? I am truly a horrid author. I could give you the oh-so-typical excuses of why I've had no time to write: finials, holidays, work, etc. But I'm sure you have all that as well. You had time to read my story, so I should have time to write it. That would be true, but I am dreadfully slow writer. The first part of this story, less than a 1,000 words, took over two months to write. And this update is longer, and more complex, seeing as I have absolutely no clue where this story is going. But trust me, things will heat up. **


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